


Deeply, With Reason

by Azpou



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Dreams, Dubious Consent, Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-17
Updated: 2002-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azpou/pseuds/Azpou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel dreams. Set at the beginning of Daniel's dream in 'Absolute Power'. Completed Wednesday 17th April, 2002. With thanks to EmGee, for the beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeply, With Reason

Daniel loves fucking Jack O'Neill, for a number of very good, very wonderful reasons, reasons that he isn't going to detail just at this particular moment in time because he currently has his fingers buried deep in Jack O'Neill's seriously sexy ass.

This is pretty much the highlight of Daniel's day, and wouldn't Jack kill him for saying otherwise, because hasn't Daniel spent the last twelve hours translating Egyptian tablets from P6F 576? Jack O'Neill would be very, very pissed if he ever thought Daniel enjoyed translating Egyptian tablets from P6F 576 more than he enjoyed shoving his fingers deep inside Jack O'Neill's seriously sexy ass. Might even be pissed enough to not let Daniel shove his fingers inside Jack's ass for a couple of weeks, although this is something Daniel doubts, because Jack likes having Daniel's fingers in his ass very much indeed.

Daniel loves stroking Jack deep inside, loves rubbing Jack's prostate with the pads of his fingers, loves making Jack whimper and shudder with delight. Wishes he could burn his fingerprints onto Jack's sweet spot, a sort of private, internal brand, the equivalent of engraving 'Daniel Jackson was here, February 2001' right across Jack's forehead with a needle, staking his claim and scarring Jack permanently. Though Jack would probably freak and run if he ever knew that Daniel thinks those kind of thoughts, because the only reason he lets Daniel shove his fingers there is that he trusts Daniel not to ever cause him pain.

The trouble is, Daniel quite enjoys watching Jack grimacing in discomfort. He likes the frown line that forms between Jack's eyebrows, likes the way Jack's mouth tightens and thins, because Daniel likes to kiss that frown away, likes to lick and nibble at Jack's mouth until Jack smiles and laughs once again. This is why he wants to cause Jack pain, because comforting Jack is a powerful experience, and it isn't often that Daniel feels as powerful as he would sometimes like to be.

This is also one of the reasons why he loves fucking Jack's seriously sexy ass; one of those reasons that he can't actually vocalise right now because he's adding a third finger to Jack's hole, just there, stretching Jack wider and wider, making him ready for Daniel's cock - but not too ready. Enough to eliminate the pain but not the discomfort, because where's the power in making someone who's already happy even happier? It works better for Daniel if Jack needs to be kissed and held, stroked and soothed, before Daniel drives into him over and over and takes him higher than he's ever been before.

At least, that's what Daniel pretends he does, because he's well aware that their relationship is comfortable and relaxed, has bred the kind of familiarity so common to married couples, and while that familiarity holds a beauty and allure all its own, it isn't what Daniel wants right now. Daniel wants the passion and fire that typified their first fucks, when they'd screw in the back of Jack's truck only a half-mile from Cheyenne Mountain, thrust and jerk against each other in the storage closets in the belly of the base, Daniel biting on Jack's neck like a vampire, and then holding Jack's head while Jack knelt at his feet like some kind of whore, swallowing Daniel right down to the root.

So Daniel isn't exactly surprised to find himself squirting more lube over his hand, isn't surprised to find himself adding a fourth finger to the three already twisting inside Jack, because he's tired of playing things safe, tired of catering to Jack's inhibitions. He also isn't surprised when Jack tenses in surprise, murmuring askance, needing to know what's going on, since four fingers isn't the routine prelude to slow and safe penetration.

Daniel presses kisses along Jack's spine, thinking that this is yet another reason why he loves fucking Jack O'Neill like this, on his hands and knees, because Jack's spine is almost as sexy as his ass. He whispers to Jack that it'll be okay, everything'll be fine, just relax and let it go.

And Jack does; his muscles flowing with utter abandonment, just letting Daniel press his four fingers further inside, as far as they'll go. Daniel kneels over Jack, resting on Jack's sexy spine, loving the hardness of Jack's wiry, bony body with every single fibre of his being. His left arm stretched out under him, twisted a little so that he can cup Jack's ass cheek tenderly with his palm, cradle the softness, the smoothness, Daniel whispers sweet nothings into Jack's ear, making Jack moan with delight.

Daniel chuckles as he straightens up, spreading his four fingers inside Jack before pulling out slightly, just a little, so he can make the shape of an arrowhead with his hand - fingers and thumb - and stretch Jack wider than he's ever been stretched before. It feels so good to have Jack like this, panting and whispering with pleasure beneath him, because Jack almost never lets go, not completely, even when Daniel is driving into him over and over again, making his body shudder and his hips jerk. There's almost always a look in Jack's eyes, a look that says, I know what you're trying to do to me, Daniel, and it's not gonna work.

Jack is always a challenge, is never submissive, is always making Daniel fight for every little quiver and groan. That's another reason why Daniel likes to fuck Jack O'Neill, because Daniel has always loved a challenge, and Jack O'Neill is the greatest challenge yet. To take Jack, to possess him, to claim him as Daniel's own and make him scream and beg to be split apart, right down the middle, to wipe that smirk off his face and blow that look from his eyes . . . that's a challenge Daniel is only too willing to face. Because putting Jack O'Neill on his hands and knees like a dog, parting Jack O'Neill's thighs and ass, and fucking Jack O'Neill right through the mattress . . . that all feels better than anything else in the universe, even better than the rush through the stargate.

Of course, pushing his entire fist deep inside Jack O'Neill also feels pretty amazing, particularly since Jack is all but begging for more of the same, quivering and shivering with desperate arousal as Daniel slowly, ever so slowly and carefully moves his hand deeper inside, until his knuckles slide into Jack's hole and Jack is hot and tight around him.

Jack breathes harshly, his arms shaking with tension. Daniel is pleased, and slightly stunned, especially when he reaches around Jack's hips and finds Jack's cock is rock hard and dribbling pre-come. Jack makes a strange keening noise when Daniel inadvertently shifts the hand in his ass, and then Jack isn't the only one breathing hard. Daniel can barely hear Jack begging over his own rough gasps, but hears enough to know that Jack wants more, and wants it now, so Daniel pushes forward, still slow, still careful, until even his wrist has vanished up Jack's ass.

And Daniel feels so powerful, kneeling uncomfortably with his legs folded under him, looking at Jack's stretched and open ass with amazement and lust, so much lust, so strong and powerful it actually steals away his breath. Watching Jack kneeling helpless and pierced through his most intimate, most vulnerable place, like a butterfly pinned to a wall through its wing. Seeing Jack, at Daniel's mercy, dependant upon Daniel for his pleasure, for his safety, for his release, because if Daniel opts not to pleasure Jack, chooses to hurt him, decides that he isn't going to let Jack go, ever, then there isn't a damn thing Jack can do about it. And Daniel is tempted, so tempted, because it would be so easy to hurt Jack like this, so easy to produce that frown and that grimace, and keeping Jack here for the rest of his life would suit Daniel just fine . . .

But Jack isn't the only one who needs to come. Daniel's cock throbs against his thigh at the feel of Jack clenched tight around his arm, because he's in Jack almost up to the elbow and, God, how much more can Jack take? So hot, so tight, so very, very deep . . . and suddenly it's too much, to have Jack so far gone, when Daniel doesn't even know how to hold back himself, because he can't keep pushing forward, can't fill Jack any more than he has already, not when the risks are so fucking huge. It would be so easy to let go, to punch into Jack without restraint, but there has to be a limit, because otherwise it doesn't mean anything at all.

My hand, in Jack, Daniel thinks, and marvels at the connotations of those four words. His hand, capable of killing, of maiming and inflicting pain, fills Jack so completely, is held so hotly by Jack in a gesture so precious, so trusting, with a sensuality so unique and stubborn and brave, so incredibly Jack, that it's all Daniel can do to think straight long enough to roll his knuckles and squeeze Jack's cock hard enough to make Jack come, screaming Daniel's name with a shuddering sob.

Daniel's own come splashes over their thighs at the feel of Jack's shuddering, coating them both with slickness. He stays still, waiting for Jack to relax further, so he can safely withdraw, because now that it's over, he doesn't want to hurt Jack, not ever. His arm feels like it's been sucked permanently into place, so he rests the fingers of his free hand above Jack's perineum, on the lower edge of his hole, and tugs gently downward, allowing himself more scope for movement.

Jack doesn't speak as Daniel slowly and carefully withdraws, doesn't move from his hands and knees when Daniel is finally free to sit back for a second before levering himself painfully away from the bed. It bothers him that Jack doesn't move, but he can't bear to look at Jack's raw, open ass, red and bleeding from the abuse. He stumbles to the bathroom to wash up, so completely in shock he can't even think.

He washes his hands, scrubs at them, seeking to clean in the way of a child, until his fingers are rosy and sore. Then he turns on the shower, mechanically stepping under it before the water has a chance to heat up, still not thinking and certainly not feeling. He takes the soap and rubs it slackly over his body, cleaning everywhere he can reach, which doesn't include his back, and that's when he remembers Jack, because usually they share a shower and Daniel doesn't miss spots like that, because Jack is always, always willing to lend a hand.

He gets out of the shower just as the pounding water is starting to warm, leaves the shower turned on and strides into the bedroom still wet, with soap suds running down his thighs and glistening in his hair. He finds Jack still kneeling, still raw and open and bleeding, his thighs still sticky with Daniel's come, staring into the distance with shock written all over his face.

Daniel doesn't look at Jack's ass, because he can't, not yet, and instead slides into bed and pulls Jack into his arms. Jack doesn't react for long moments, so much so that Daniel wonders, panic-stricken, if Jack is gone forever; and then slowly, carefully, desperately, Jack slides his hands around Daniel's waist and buries his face into the curve of Daniel's shoulder.

Jack's teeth scrape over Daniel's skin, and Daniel just knows his eyes are screwed tightly shut, his teeth clenched against the emotions flooding through them both. He can feel the tension in Jack's body, can feel the shock and the confusion, along with the truly disconcerting satisfaction at the memory of what they'd just done . . . because it was satisfying. Shamefully so. Daniel can still feel the strength of Jack's ass wrapped tightly around his arm, and that's a feeling he won't forget in a hurry. If ever.

Daniel murmurs incoherently, feeling hollow as he strokes Jack's hair, wanting to soothe away Jack's tremors. There's no feeling of power this time, nor even the desire for it, to use Jack for his own selfish pleasure. Only the reason why he lusts for Jack so, why he feels at once so powerful and so utterly powerless in Jack's presence, and it's so deep and strong, so consuming, that it can't be called anything so trite and common as 'love'.

"Christ," Jack mumbles, crushing Daniel close.

And Daniel thinks, sadly . . . Yeah.


End file.
